#inkispiration

[subduedpassions03]

Write

Everyday I feel like I gaze at the abyss and looks back into me, I write.

For whenever I think my heart will give up, thrumming, and my vessels shall be frozen, I write.

In times of absurdity, tragedy, travesty, I write. I write, write write until my fingers hurt.

What else is there to life?

[subduedpassions03]

Love

I oft speak and hear thou name, murmured like a prayer from lips of forgotten

On the Ganges bank, one many sublime, on river beds of earthen slime

In the eyes of a moon shaped visage, the labour of assimilated devotion

In smiles as shimmering as the oceans, ambrosia laced concoctions

In fire's crackling wisps on a cold day, in a stranger's eyes along the way

Like a warm spring of hot water,

Even a miragy oasis,

A caffeine shot of joy, circadian osmosis

A glass of wine, transmogrifying vapour to incense

Frictionless inclines, winding labyrinthys.

I feel loved, as I am meant to.

Delusion cackles in the dark.

My fear and disappointment, ebb and flow

The after-taste of tartar.